Who am I, thinking thoughts like that? Jesus, next I’ll be piercing my lip, dying my hair black, and carrying around a beat-up notebook to write down my innermost thoughts.
It was marginally easier to laugh at myself than admit I was heartbroken.
I’dcampedfor that man. I’d ridden everywhere in a truck and eaten hamburgers in the back of it. And I’d been happy to do it because I’d been withhim.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Sucking in a ragged breath, I quietly walked into Spanish, my gaze automatically zeroing in on Lock’s spot, except he wasn’t there. Someone shifting in their desk drew my eyes to the opposite side of the room. My stomach heaved. Bile rose in my throat. He’d changed seats, moving his as far from mine as possible.
Spinning on my toes, I walked right back out of the classroom.
It was too late to drop this class, so I’d have to take an incomplete. Or fail. I didn’t know what would happen, but there was no way I could attend that class for the rest of the semester. The room was far too small to share it with him. So what if my GPA was just recovering from my atrocious first year at Berkeley? It would recover again. My dad would give me shit, but he’d get over it.
Clutching my stomach, I hurtled down the hallway toward the front of the building.
“Elena!”
Oh, no way was he chasing me down. I must have been hearing things. He couldn’t possibly be doing that. Not after he dumped me. Not after he went to great pains to be nowhere near me. He wouldn’t do that.
“Elena, stop,” he barked from right behind me.
Hot, rough fingers wrapped around my bicep, holding me with a gentle firmness that stopped me in my tracks. He spun me around so fast, I smacked into his chest. Catching his clean, summer scent sent me scrambling back, but I could only go so far in his grip.
“Take your hand off me.”
He immediately let go, but he didn’t stop crowding my space. “Go back to class.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m dropping it.”
Eyebrows contracting, he frowned at me. “You’re not dropping the class. Get your ass back in there.”
“Whoa.” I pushed off his chest, giving me a foot of space. “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore, and you certainly have no say in what I do, Lock.”
The tendons in his neck stood out, but at least he was wise enough not to correct his name.
“We can share a class. I moved my seat so—”
“How magnanimous of you. Whatever makes your life easier.” Oh boy, I guessed I’d found my anger. Damn, that felt a lot better than melancholy.
He practically growled at me. “I’m trying to make you more comfortable. This has nothing to do with me.”
“That isn’t true. I chose to leave the class, butyouchose to chase me down.” I blew out a hot breath. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?” He looked at me with a gentleness that should have been incongruous with his size and unruly ruggedness, but it was so natural, it reminded me of all he’d taken away from me. That gentleness had been directed at me a few days ago.
“Any of this,” I answered.
“What can I do to make this easier?” he asked.
Easier? He could go back in time and never have given me a taste of something I’d never have. He could try to love me even though I was difficult. He could find me worth the effort.
None of those things would happen. And being near him wouldn’t get easier. Not anytime soon. Maybe never. So, I asked for all I could.
“I want you to disappear and not exist. Can you at least give me that? Let me pretend you don’t exist. If I want to drop Spanish, let me do it. Don’t make me stand here, talking to you, feeling your hand on my skin, touching me. It’s mean, Lock.”
His head dropped, and he scrubbed at his jaw. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“You wanted to walk away, and you did. Don’t circle back. It isn’t fair to me.”